


Where's Mine?

by iihappydaysii



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Live Shows (Phandom), M/M, Parent Phan, Warnings for vomiting, married with kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 14:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii
Summary: During a live show, Dan and Phil discuss the Disney World disaster that was their most recent holiday with their kids.





	Where's Mine?

They’d spent the first fifteen minutes avoiding what half the chat was asking about—their recent trip to Disney World. It had been… well, it had been an adventure, to say the least, and Phil was waiting to see if Dan would want to address it.

Apparently, not saying anything about it was suddenly too much for Dan because he blurted out one of the many questions like this from the chat.

“How was your trip to Disney World?” Dan let out a breath. “How was our… How was our…? You want to know how our trip to Disney World was?” He was stretching out his words, exaggerating, but Dan’s over the top behavior had always made Phil laugh, and he had to fight to hold it back now.

“Dan…” Phil tried to settle Dan with his voice, or at least create the illusion of it. “ _Dan_.” Phil turned his attention back toward the laptop camera and the audience. “Sorry you’ve touched on a sensitive…” Phil let out a little snicker as Dan stormed out of frame. “Dan, come back,” Phil called out.

Dan popped back into frame, still standing, but close to the camera, leaning in. “They want to know how our holiday was? Do you want to know…?” Dan sat back down on the sofa beside Phil. “Do the trash cans want to know about our,”—his voice got a little nasal—“ _v soft family holiday?_ ”

“Dan.” Phil sighed, then shook his head. “You guys really opened a can of—“

“Do you honestly want to…?” Dan looked at Phil. “Should we…”

“I think it might be therapeutic for you, mate.” Phil shrugged.

Dan let out an exasperated sigh. He leaned back, then leaned forward toward the camera again. “I know what you all want. I know you want me to sit here and tell you about how we made all these ‘memories’ that we will ‘treasure’ ‘forever’. But no,”— he pointed at the camera—“no this is not the story you all write about in your fan fiction no, yeah I see you. I see you. No, this was _seven_ days of _overpriced_ hellish _torture_ that culminated, mind you, in—”

“By the way,” Phil butted in, “if any of you are sensitive to like gross things, especially bodily functions of any kind. Tune out for awhile. I’ll wave my hands and you’ll know it’s safe.” Phil waved his hands to show what he meant.

“Thomas,” Dan put a hand to his heart and exaggerated his voice even more, “you know, our son, who we _raised_ , who we _loved_ , who we _fed_ , every day, whose _diaper_ s—”

“Dan.” Phil playfully rolled his eyes.

“Thomas ended our holiday by,”—Dan hesitated. He always knew how to hit that dramatic effect—“ _sicking_ all over Cinderella.” Dan looked down at the chat, his eyes narrowing. “No, no. I see you people in the chat. _Poor baby. Aw, was he sick?_ No. No. This child, who I love, who I would die and kill for, this tiny hell beast, did this shit _on purpose.”_

Phil laughed.

Dan glared at him, “This is funny to you now?”

“It’s been funny to _me_ the whole time,” Phil said. “You should have seen our reactions though. We were both just stood there like—”

“No, Phil. If we’re going to tell this story. We’re going to tell it from the beginning, tell it right. We are going to make our audience hear the whole damn thing because they deserve to suffer with us. So okay, it all starts that morning—it’s our last day at Disney World, our last day—and the kids start to fight over—wait for it because, it’s so good.—a container of strawberry yoghurt.”

“The strawberry is important,” Phil said, with a small grin. “Remember strawberries for later.”

“I wish I could forget fucking strawberries,” Dan mumbled. “Any-fucking-way, we had this mini-fridge in the room right? When you have kids you always have to a mini fridge because you have shit to carry around, like you have to have milk everywhere you go.”

“If you don’t have milk all hell breaks loose.”

“Milk is all that stands between a parent and total disaster.” Dan turned back to the camera. “We’re going back a little by the way. So, we’re getting ready to go—we’re going to the Magic Kingdom for our last day and we’ve got. You were like trying to get Thomas’s shoes on?”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, I was chasing him around, while Dan’s trying to pour milk into Holly’s sippy cup and she’s tugging at his legs.”

“And, of course, because God hates me Thomas rams into Holly who crashes into my legs. I knock over the sippy cup. Both kids are crying. There’s milk all over me, all over the hotel carpet. It’s everywhere.”

Phil threw his head back and let out a little laugh through his smile. “If you guys ever want to see something funny. It’s Dan’s trying not to swear when he really, really wants to. You were literally just shouting the names of British politicians.”

“Look, _Philly_. I was trying to be educational. _Whatever._ When I say I spilt the milk, I spilt the milk. All of it. Now, Holly doesn’t have any milk, and when Holly doesn’t have milk. Phil wasn’t kidding about hell. It’s like our sweet smol angel child just transforms into actual hell demon.”

“It is _pretty_ terrifying,” Phil agreed. Because it _was_ terrifying. Holly without milk is —Phil has had actual nightmares about it.

“So here I am trying to mop up this milk. Holly’s crying, like bloody murder, someone’s going to call the police wailing. Phil is frantically like ‘here have a juice box. have a juice box’ He’s knows damn well she doesn’t want a juice box, but that’s all there is. This is what we’ve been reduced to—”

“And Thomas still doesn’t have his shoes on. He’s still just running around, but now there are milk puddles to jump in. So that adds this whole extra level of challenge.”

“It’s like we’d accidentally upped the difficultly level of our parenting skill to expert, and we were not ready. At all.”

Phil shook his head—the memory too real in his mind. “And, okay I hadn’t even had my coffee yet, so just you can picture poor coffee-less Phil.”

“But like, we get it sorted, eventually. Because like,” Dan wiggled around on the sofa, biting his bottom lip. “We are bad ass dads, okay? And I remember the strawberry yoghurt, and Holly loves strawberry yoghurt. So she takes it and she’s still blubbering so we promise Holly more milk _and_ a new stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh if she stops crying—and she does. Thank God.” Dan paused, leaned in and then pointed at the laptop screen. “ _You bribed your kid lmao?_ No, you don’t get to judge us. Don’t fucking judge us. You have no idea. No bloody— I’ll block you.”

“Dan, breathe,” Phil put a hand on Dan’s arm. “Just—anyway, I get Thomas into his shoes and we mop up the milk, and leave a big tip and an apology note for the maid, and it’s like an hour later than we’d planned to get out of the room and get on the monorail to the Magic Kingdom.”

“So like we were staying at the Polynesian hotel, which was you know the one good thing, because you could take just take the monorail to the parks, where like when we went here years ago we had to take these weird buses and God help me, God fucking help my ass, if I had to do that with two kids.”

“Yeah, that’s—I can’t even go there, Dan. I won’t do it.”

“Okay, so here we are on the monorail, and remember that picture I tweeted. The one where Phil is like loaded down with two backpacks, a camera bag, a stroller—and he’s wearing Holly’s Minnie ears. This is when I took that picture, and imagine that I basically look the same, but I’m holding Holly and wearing like a v aesthetic grumpy hat. And Thomas is bouncing around the monorail.”

“Like we’re trying to keep him still, but we don’t have any hands to do that.”

“No, so yeah our son is just basically a pinball just like ping-pinging all over this damn train, and we’re both shouting at him to sit down or like hold one of metal bars.”

“At this point, I’m just expecting to step off the monorail and Mickey shows up and announces—“

“Get the fuck out.” Dan did his Mickey Mouse voice.

“Yeah, the Lester-Howells permanently banned from Disney World.”

Dan snorted. “Sounds like something that would happen to us.”

“But, it was fine. It was all good. Mickey Mouse wasn’t there to throw us—”

“What happened with the strawberry yoghurt?” Dan was reading the chat again. “Just hold your horses.” He spat a little as he spoke. “The yoghurt is coming back.”

Phil snorted. “Oh it came back all right.”

Dan shot him a glare. “I _will_ divorce you. Do not test me.”

With a snicker, Phil put his hands up in feigned surrender. “Jeez, Dan.”

“Sorry.” He let out a breath. “So where were we? Getting off the monorail. Right. Right. So we get off the monorail and we herd the kids into the park. Pick up a stroller. It’s great, everything is lovely, happiest place on earth and all that shit. And then Holly asks to eat her strawberry yoghurt. So, I—being a genius—just pull one of her little like kids spoons out of the backpack and give it to Holly and open up her yoghurt.”

“This doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it is.” It really had been—the catalyst total disaster.

“Two seconds. Like, I swear to God, two seconds after I hand Holly the yoghurt, I hear the worst two words in the English language, ‘Where’s mine?’” Dan said.

“If you don’t have kids, or maybe if you have like young siblings or something, or maybe you remember from being a kid, I don’t know, but kids have to have the exact same things. Like it doesn’t matter if they’d never play with the thing _ever_ if left to their own devices, if they see their sibling have it, it’s now the greatest object that’s ever existed.”

“It’s the actual holy grail,” Dan said. “And so like this is where we are right now, standing in front of the fucking enchanted tiki room and our two year daughter has hold of the most valuable object in the history of our son’s life—a container of strawberry yoghurt.”

Phil just shook his head. “At this point, I know Dan’s fucked up. Dan knows he’s fucked up. The mother of eight who’s just passed us with like six strollers knows Dan has fucked up. ‘Where’s mine?’ those are just words you never want to hear as a parent.”

“Internally, I’m panicking, but you like never want to show weakness, not in a moment like this. I need Thomas to think this all planned out, right? Like I knew what I was doing giving Holly the yoghurt and it’s all part of some sort of complex—whatever, like he’s staring up at me and he says it again, ‘Daddy, where’s mine?’. He’s six so when he pulls out the daddy, I know he’s in it to win it, like he’s preparing to lay on the guilt.”

“Thomas is very good at guilting us,” Phil said. “I don’t know who he gets it from but it’s like he’ll color on the walls and somehow we’ll end up apologizing to him. Mind tricks, I tell you. He’s got a future career in something. And we know our son, and he’s two seconds away from just total tear central right there in the middle of Walt Disney World.” Kids cry at Disney parks all the time, but this felt like it was on a whole different level, especially when it was their kid.

“So, I see it, across the busy walkway—there it is—I swear it’s glowing, like the angels are singing, and there it is.”

Phil read through the chat. _What? What is it? Tell us!_

“It’s a fruit cart, lads,” Phil said. “So, don’t get excited. All he saw was a fruit cart.”

“It was _glowing,_ Phil.

“And that’s when you said the sentence you will regret for the rest of your life.”

“Truly.” Dan sighed. “I say, ‘Do you want a whole carton of your very own strawberries?’ Like I’m trying to sell it.”

“If you’ve been following along, you’ll know where he went wrong,” Phil said, and then waited to see if anyone got it in the chat.

_Wait, what?_

_Where’d he go wrong?_

_Oh… oh my God._

“I think some of you may have gotten it,” Phil continued.

“I’m like super smug at this point. Like I’m high-fiving the Aladdin actor as he passes by me. I’m actually zazzed. I’m like Queen of the Dads. The gods have bestowed upon me a fruit cart, with a glorious plastic carton of strawberries, and I’m going to give my son all them. Problem solved.”

Phil threw his head back and laughed. “The problem was _not_ solved.”

“It was not. Because I come back, I’m still on top of the world, but now I’ve got my carton full of strawberries and I hand them to Thomas, and as soon as he opens it up—”

“The exact second he opens it, you know what we hear?” Phil asked.

“‘Where’s fucking mine’!” Dan shouted, leaning into the camera again. RIP anyone wearing headphones. “In Holly’s tiny little voice. I mean she didn’t say ‘fucking’ but like I’m stuck. I can’t go back and buy her her own strawberries because that upsets the original imbalance. She got the yoghurt, he got strawberries. The world was supposed to be at peace, you know what the problem with that is?” Dan asked.

“Uh, our daughter is two. Which I learned in the moment.”

“Precisely. So old Philly here,”—Dan nudged him—“tries to explain to a two year old the philosophical premise behind fairness, but all a two year old understands are strawberries her brother is eating and she isn’t. Her little blue eyes just well up with tears and the tears start pouring down her face, they’re getting all over her Donald Duck shirt. Phil is like shushing her, like not in a bad way, in a like ‘it’s okay stop crying way’ and then she just shouts, like actually shouts, in—remember we’re outside the goddamn tiki room, we’re blocking the fucking passageway between here and fucking Frontierland and this chiid—God knows where she heard it—just screams, ‘Why you starving me?’”

“Literally, like sixteen people turn and look at us,” Phil said. “Like looks of great judgment and horror.”

“And Phil, in a true AmazingPhil moment, just goes ‘What? We gave her a yoghurt’.” Dan just started cracking up, like the hardest he’d laughed this entire time. He was red and his was all crinkled.

“It’s not even that funny,” Phil said, but now he couldn’t contain his laughter just because Dan was laughing. Sometimes it floored him just how much they could still make each other laugh

“It wasn’t funny at all. That’s what was so funny about it.” Dan finished sputtering his laughter and then collected himself enough to continue the story. “My new plan is to talk to Thomas, reason with him, because he’s six and Holly’s two and she’s still balling, just those big tears you don’t even know how they fit in their eyes, so I’m coming up with every logical reason he should give her one of his strawberries. None of them are working. None. That child does not want to give his sister any strawberries because he didn’t get any yoghurt. End of story.”

Phil tucked his legs up onto the sofa. “If only this was the end of the story.”

“So I do the thing you’re not supposed to do as a parent, the thing all the parenting books tell you not to do. I break and I just say ‘Well, that’s tough. Life’s not fair, materino.”

“I think you actually called our son, materino.”

Dan snorted. “I did, and then I took one of the strawberries right out of the carton and handed it to Holly. She took a bite of the strawberry and stopped crying. I expected Thomas to get mad, but he didn’t. He didn’t cry or guilt us. He just kind of stopped, like totally silent, and I was like I was super smug about it like internally, like I’d solved the crisis. I was Lord of the Dads.”

“I thought you were Queen of the Dads,” Phil added.

“Queen-Lord of the Dads.” Dan cleared his throat. “So everything was chill, at this point, or so we thought. We rode Pirates of the Caribbean. Went to the Haunted Mansion, and I think we did like the Snow White mining coaster, whatever that one is. Well, Phil went with Thomas. Holly’s too small so I just took her into a few of the shops. Anyway, this is totally off topic other than it is the calm before the storm. It shows my happy delusion of the conclusion of the perfect family holiday of my dreams that’s about to be torn asunder.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Asunder?”

“Yes, asunder.”

“I like how your vocabulary gets better when you’re being extra.”

 _He’s always being extra,_ said someone in the chat.

 _He’s cute when he’s extra,_ said someone else. Phil had to agree with that.

“Holly’s getting a little fussy,” Dan said. “Like, we had to wait awhile for Thomas and Phil to get back, and she really wanted to go see the princesses, so like fine. Thomas gets back and he’s had a great time on the roller coaster, strawberries seemingly forgotten.”

“And then you do another dumb thing,” Phil said.

Dan’s eyes narrowed. “I feel like you’re blaming this on me and I don’t really think this is my fault. I feel like you’re not taking adequate responsibility for—“

“Babe, let’s not have a domestic during the livestream. We’ll scare the viewers.” Phil didn’t use pet names with Dan much, but he did sometimes. When he saw the chat just filled with the word _babe,_ he remembered why he didn’t do it very often.

Dan sighed. “Whatever, the point is, I tell Thomas we’re going to go wait in line to see Cinderella because he just got to do what he wanted to do and now Holly was going to get to do what she wanted to do.”

Phil read out from the chat, “Lol, Dan, why didn’t you just take Holly to see Cinderella when they were on the roller coaster?” He turned his body towards Dan a little more. “Yeah, Dan, why didn’t you?”

“Because she wasn’t scheduled to appear, then, Phil.”

“Oh, right, I remember now.” He did. Talking about this was making it all come back in a kind of horrible clarity.

“Skipping like a chunk of the tantrum, Thomas is just mad that we’re going to wait in line to see Cinderella and Phil said he would go take Thomas to do something else, which pissed me off because we were supposed to be trying not to split up that much. Like we’d had this conversation before the trip of saying we weren’t going to go do separate things that much because we wanted it to be like a real family bonding holiday.”

“Dan?”

“Yeah, Phil?”

“We’re idiots.”

“Oh undoubtedly. We’ll learn that from this.” Dan let out a breath. “Basically, I’m like, ‘you’re sister waited for you. You can wait for her. just shut up and go meet Cinderella’. I didn’t tell him to shut up, but I was putting my foot down.”

“Here’s the other thing,” Phil said. “It’s like crazy hot and humid. It was okay earlier, but now it’s like scorching, and we’re all standing in the heat, kind of pissed at each other, waiting to see Cinderella. It is not ideal.”

“And it takes us, what is it? Like an hour. An hour to see Cinderella, and we’re standing there. Right there and I’ve got Holly out of the stroller ready to go see Cinderella in her beautiful sparkling blue dress with her perfect hair—“

“There’s a line of people behind us too,” Phil said. “These people have been waiting in this heat for as long as we have. Just keep that in mind.”

“So many threads to this story.” Dan rubbed at the back of his neck and leaned forward toward the camera. “I’m carrying Holly up, so proud of myself—”

“Because he’s queen-lord of the dads.”

“I am, and then Holly just starts screaming bloody murder. She wants nothing to do with Cinderella. She’s totally freaking out and we’re going to have to just leave the line, even though we’ve given ourselves heat exhaustion waiting for fucking Cinderella. So I apologize to Cinderella and the cast member that’s with her and start to walk away.”

“Then, Thomas just looks at me like ‘what the fuck are you doing’? and I’m trying to get him to come with us, but he’s just stood there. He’s stood there and he’s not moving, so Cinderella, God bless her, ushers Thomas over to her because she thinks he like still wants to do the meet and greet or whatever, but no Thomas is standing there because he’s pissed at me and he’s formulating and evil plan to get back at me and destroy the happiness of a line full of sweating adults and their children.”

“He _looked_ at you, Dan.”

“I know he did. Our son looked right at me and he got this evil little smirk, then turned back to the sweet Cinderella, who could not be paid enough for this, who was knelt down with her arms out for him. And he took two steps forward and just… he just vomited _all_ over her, just a horrible fountain of red strawberry chunks just covering her beautiful blue dress.”

“I swear time stopped,” Phil added. “Like it went on forever, and everyone was just frozen. It was awful, like that poor lady and all those people in line who’d been waiting to see her and they can’t now because she’s covered in strawberry chunks from our child’s stomach. Like, we were mortified.”

“Absolutely mortified. We’ve both done a lot of embarrassing shit in our life, but somehow this topped all of it, even though we didn’t do it.”

“Everyone was so nice about it though,” Phil said.

“That was the worst part though.”

“It was.”

“Because we knew, like the cast members were so sweet to him and to us, and we’re internally screaming because like we know the truth. We know what really happened.”

“The shame,” Phil said. “You don’t even know the shame because we were both too awkward to do anything but let them be super nice.”

“And then, this cast member who was helping, like how, you know, they’re trained to do, he asks our son, he says, ‘is there anything we can get you to make you feel better? Would you like a balloon?”

Phil just shook his head. “Thomas looked at us again.”

“I know and it was the same look, and I’m like oh God, he’s going to purposely blow chunks on this man too, but he just looks back at that man and you know what our son says—the son we raised, the child we clothed, and fed and diapered—“

“Dan.”

Dan got up on his knees, his hair was a disaster at this point from running his hand through it with stress, and he tilted his head and leaned into the camera, like he needed the whole world’s attention for this and Phil thought he probably did. His poor husband probably needed this closure,

“Our son says, “yeah, I’d really like some strawberry yoghurt.”

 

 


End file.
